


Concrete

by now_a_malec_writer



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, That doesn't look like one, malec ff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 01:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15377562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/now_a_malec_writer/pseuds/now_a_malec_writer
Summary: We fight.We sorrow.Can we make up?This is a really short thing I wrote inspired by the song "Concrete", by Tom Odell. This is different in many ways for me, but I think writing is about exploring and experimenting.You can't tell by the story, but I swear this is a Malec ff. = DI hope you like it.Thanks for reading!p.s.: if possible, listen to the song while reading this.(find me on IG: @now_a_malec_writer.)





	1. A cold bed

The bed sheets were cold against his bare skin. He was lonely. That was the problem. He knew that. 

Everything around him felt empty, faded, boring. Annoying. 

The loft felt huge now. Try to live in a place that size alone for a few days, then you’ll get it. 

Nothing could distract him. Because the fight was all that he could think about. It was eating him alive, like a starving animal, an untamed beast, feeding on his fears and regrets. The scene was running through his mind like a song on repeat. What he said. What he heard. The hurtful accusations. His own bitter voice. The gesture, all exaggerated, to accentuate anger, disappointment, frustration. 

They came all from the same place. 

A place of love. 

And still. 

They hurt him. 

And he hurt back. 

Oh, what are we capable of doing for the ones we care the most. 

He felt like they were slapping each other even without touching one another. But you can burn down a place without using a real match for that. 

He knew that now. 

He felt exhausted. Mainly because he was homesick somehow, and he couldn’t put himself to rest. 

All nights that follow that fateful one were a new kind of torture. He was living with uncertainty, doubt, regret, and sorrow as his constant companions. They were always there.   
For days. All those mixed feelings were so draining of his energy. 

He wishes he could say how sorry he was. He wishes he could take those words back, bury them  
in the farthest corner of the Earth and never reach for them again. He wanted to forget. 

The bed was uncomfortable. He was twisting and turning, the covers were itchy, the room was too hot - even if he was feeling so cold. 

It was the second day. 

It was the third night. 

He was starting to doubt that he would make it. For one more day. One more night. He felt like he was suffocating. He wanted to touch. To kiss. To murmur his regret. To beg forgiveness. 

He cried already. His eyes were burning, there were no more tears left to cry. All his tears have been used up. 

Wait.

A noise. 

A sound. 

The front door was opening. He heard the steps slowly walking in, unsure, recognizing the territory

Hope. 

He was still in bed, facing the wall. He didn’t dare to move. He was waiting. He was ready. 

He wasn’t ready at all. 

But this is it. 

Would it be over? Would this be the end? Was he back to say his final goodbye? Was he done? 

Were they?


	2. A not so cold bedroom

The loft was immersed in darkness like it was a reflection of his own feelings. He was walking with caution, maybe he could see if… No. 

The living room was empty. 

The fear was growing in his chest now. 

Everything seemed empty and uninhabited like no living creature was there before his arrival. 

Was he alone?

Was he alone for good?  
Why didn’t they try to talk? Why were they just too stubborn like that? This is what being too proud gets you. A life of loneliness and misery. 

He could remember the whole scene developing in front of him, escalating uncontrollably, quickly, a tsunami washing their senses away. 

They were soaked in anger and bitterness. 

Just the thought of that made his stomach to get sick all over again. 

Did it matter? 

The fight. 

Did it matter?

He knew better than this, no?

He started to undress in the living room, taking off his shoes, his jacket… He was making some noise, but what’s the point of being careful if there’s no one you can bother? 

Damn, he was tired. This was getting the best out of him and he needed to sleep. It’s hard to sleep alone once you’re used to having someone to rely on against at night. All beds in the world would feel like made of the most unwelcoming material. Because he knew he shouldn’t be trying to sleep, he should be making this right. 

He walked into the room. 

Oh.

He wasn’t alone after all. 

His heart was flooded. His eyes were teary. He wasn’t alone. 

That was all he needed to know. From that he knew they could fix this. 

He decided to take the rest of his clothes, trying now to do it in the most silent way possible. He left his pants on the floor. He was only in his underwear. He could put his pajamas on later. This was urgent. 

His body was craving. 

He reached his bed. The other man never moved. Was he awake? There’s no way to tell. 

He occupied his side of the bed. The sheets were freezing against his skin, even with the room being so sultry. 

He was breathing heavily, he was so unsure how to do this. Should he say something? 

Instead, he decided to reach out. With his feet. It was a bit cold but bearable. His feet touched the feet of the other man lying next to him. 

They started this unspoken conversation. 

The feet were rubbing against the other man’s, and it was welcomed. He smiled. The approach continued. He slid bit by bit, getting nearer and nearer of his target. The legs met first and got tangled immediately, the warmth finally embracing them a little more. His chest met a strong back and rested there, fitting like always, like home, like it was meant to be like they knew it was. His arm embraced the chest in front of him. 

They couldn’t see, but they were both smiling now. 

He felt his hand being placed near the other man’s heart, bringing him closer. They were placed like pieces of a puzzle. Completely adjusted to each other. 

They were finally together. The fight didn’t matter. The words. The crisis. It was all irrelevant in face of the possibility of loss. Of an over. 

They were feeling much better this way. 

They were getting cozy against each other. 

Finally, a voice broke the silence: 

“What took you so long?”

A smile that got lost in the darkness was briefly there. 

“Sorry. But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

A kiss followed that. It was the end of that conversation. 

“I’m sorry.”  
“It’s okay.”  
“I missed you.”  
“I love you.”  
“I love you, too.”  
“Stay with me.”  
“Always.”

And with that certainty, they were finally able to get some rest. 

 

(THE END)


End file.
